Eight Birds for Seven Princes
by TheCheeseGreater
Summary: Master Kurt Hummel is lonely, so his worker, Blaine Anderson, gets six people to move into the estate. But after a while, a mysterious figure slowly picks them off one by one for... what? Rated M for gore.


**AN: Ah, the first fan fiction I have written for a while… A few years to be exact. Anyhow, a new start with my first new story. This is based on a dream that I just had. I need to get it out of my system. It was rather odd. I have changed the characters to fit in with the Glee personas. I guess it's an AU, unless they all lead a secret life outside of school… I do not own Glee, just my freaky story dream. Expect a little OOC ness. **

**Eight Birds for Seven Princes**

Bright sun shone in the sky, its rays of light, lightly bouncing across the luscious emerald grass which danced gently in the breeze inside a well kept garden. Said well kept garden belonged to a large estate building, with clean cream bricks, tall windows, numerous baloneys and heavy doors. The estate belonged to young Master Kurt Hummel, son of the late Master Burt Hummel of the extremely successful 'Hummel Carriage Repair' company. The late Master Burt Hummel had not so long ago died due to a heart attack, leaving his son alone with the property and the company. However, he did have his servant, Blaine Anderson. Blaine was a loyal and hard worker, doing anything in his power to make sure that Master Hummel was happy and well, not only because it was his job to do so, but because he cared for Master Hummel in a way that most people would consider punishable by death. It would be a lie to say that young Master Hummel did not return Blaine's feelings, he very much did return them, but a fear of what would happen to one another if their relationship got out to the public kept Kurt as his Master, and Blaine as his worker.

Kurt Hummel sat idly in one of the many windows of his home, staring at the vast and colourful garden attached to the front of the house. From this window, he could see the gate to his estate, leading to the outside world that he had not dared visit himself since his father's death. Heaving an audible sigh, he continued to stare at passing carriages, containing the very thing that he needed: people. Not even friends, he would just be content for company other than the one man who looked after his house. It's not that he didn't like Blaine, he loved him deeply, it was just the lack of interaction that others outside of the Hummel household held. They had friends, acquaintances, families, lovers and enemies. Kurt wanted that. He wanted what they had.

"Master Hummel, are you alright?" asked Blaine. Kurt didn't even look at his servant, choosing to stay in his own little world so that he could wallow in his misery for a little longer. When had Blaine even gotten there?

"I'm lonely Blaine" he stated simply, spying a young woman and her husband taking an afternoon stroll past his gates towards the town.

"Lonely, sir?" asked Blaine, mulling over the word in his head. His Kurt was lonely. Despite the slight sting at the thought of his presence not being enough for Kurt, he still found himself wanting to get rid of this blemish in Kurt's life.

"It is so quiet up here. No one to talk to, just you, but you're always needing to work. Not that I don't want you to work, I would just like someone to keep me company." Kurt sighed again, losing interest in the window and standing up to pace around the spacious, but cosy, drawing room. Deciding that pacing wasn't enough to restrain his boredom, he chose to pay heed to his servant. "Did you need anything in particular, Anderson?"

"Ah, yes sir. I came to inform you that you carriage is ready to take you to one o'clock appointment with the companies finance manager" replied Blaine subconsciously, as he tried to find a way to end Kurt's displeasure.

The pacing man stopped for a moment, drawing his pocket watch from his designer waistcoat and running a soft hand through his styled chestnut hair, surveying the little marks on the round objects surface. Sighing once more, he placed his watch back into its home and stalked out of the room and down the halls with quick, long strides; Blaine following closely behind him. The young servant pulled a coat of the rack near the front entrance, holding it open for Kurt to slip into. After opening the door for Kurt, he hopped over to the carriage and once again, held the door open for Kurt to step into, closing it and hitting the rear end of the carriage twice, and watching it pull away from the estate.

Blaine stood there for a short while, still wondering of a way to resolve Kurt's loneliness. After a little thought, he got an idea, sprinting inside for his own jacket and running down through the gates and into the town, hoping they would have everything that he needed.

* * *

When he got home, Kurt was even more bored and even lonelier than before. He knew his workers down at the company all had families to go to, or friends to go out and drink with, so why couldn't he? He could hardly face the town, the place where his late father, loved by all, would go to visit local shops and people, making small talk and socialising, helping those in need when he could, before he went to the company or when he was on his way home to his son. Kurt couldn't face the town that brought so many memories of his father, not this soon after his death. It was hard enough passing through the town on his way to work.

Blaine heard the door close, and practically bounced down the halls towards Kurt. He stopped in front of the slightly taller man and smiled widely, but not too widely that it would be disrespectful.

"Sir, do you remember this morning when you told me of your loneliness." It might have been a rather blunt way to put it, but he was so excited that he got to make Kurt happy that even the most simple of formalities were being forgotten. He didn't even give Kurt a chance to reply. "Well, I may just have the cure for you sir. Please, follow me."

He briskly led a baffled Kurt towards the study door. Once they both got there, he opened the door slowly, for dramatic effect; he knew how Kurt loved dramatic effect. Kurt insecurely poked his head in through the door, unsure of what was waiting for him inside the room. He didn't expect to be met with eight small cages, each containing a small yellow warbler bird. Soft fluttering and chirping filled the once quiet room.

"See sir. I have bought you these birds. I thought that maybe, their presence would bring you happiness and joy, both through their being here and their song." To say that Blaine was proud of himself would be an understatement. He just knew that Kurt would love his surprise. "Will you name them sir? I think Pavarotti would be a good name for this one, seeing as he is singing quite profoundly-"

"What is this?" Kurt quietly cut him off, unsure of what was exactly happening. "What is this?" He repeated, slightly louder. "When I talked of loneliness, I meant I was striving for _human _constellation, not _ave _constellation!" He was fuming. He knew Blaine cared, but sometimes his mistakes were too much for Kurt to handle when he was in one of his "fragile" moods.

Blaine looked like a kicked puppy. He had thought the birds would make Kurt happy. All they ended up doing was make him angry. "I am sorry master," he said softly, defeated, "I will get rid of them."

"No. Leave them. Just- just get back to work" Kurt knew he shouldn't have snapped. He just wanted to get on with things, maybe wallow some more in his negativity. Not that he really enjoyed that at all. Blaine trudged away, trying not to feel so down and defeated. He had to make this right for Kurt; he had to make him smile again. It had been so long.

* * *

A week later and nothing much had changed for Kurt. He sat at the same window, wanting the same things, drinking the same tea in the same room. The only thing that changed was that Blaine seemed excited for a reason and Kurt couldn't picture why. The last time he had that happily nervous puppy expression on his face was when he gave Kurt the birds, which were still chirping happily away in the study.

"Master Hummel?" Once again, Blaine had managed to sneak up on Kurt without him noticing. "I thought it fair to warn you that we are expecting guests this afternoon." Blaine had that happy expression on his face again.

"They better not be more birds." Kurt sighed, not entirely in the mood to have more pets thrust upon him.

"No sir, they are very human." Blaine was excited. "They are here to rent the rooms you had advertised in the paper."

"Rooms? I advertised no rooms."

"I did sir. I know it wasn't my place, but I thought it would be a good way for you to be around others while in the… comfort of your own home. Better than trying to brave the town."

"You should have asked me first, and it really wasn't your place," Kurt really couldn't resist the smile on Blaine's face; why did he have to love the man so much? He let a small smile escape his tight lips "but, I find myself looking forward to their arrival."

Blaine was so happy; he could have bounced in glee. That small smile, barely noticeable to anyone but Blaine, was enough to let him know that the risk was worth it. He couldn't wait until the afternoon. Neither could Kurt.

* * *

The afternoon came and on the Hummel estate doorstep stood Miss Berry, Mr Hudson, Miss Farbray, Miss Lopez, Mr Puckerman and Miss Zizes. Kurt welcomed them into his home with open arms and a smile, much like his late father would have done. He and Blaine then led them to their quarters after the introductions. First to be shown to their room was Miss Rachel Berry, a short, eccentric brunette girl with a wide, almost inhuman smile. She was kind enough to gift Kurt with four small jewelled ornamental corn mice. The next was Miss Quinn Fabray, elegant and strong with luxurious curling golden locks. After her, Mr Noah Puckerman, strong willed, dark haired and a little cocky. After him, Miss Santana Lopez, a slim Latino girl with a devious smirk. Next was Miss Lauren Zizes, strong, slightly on the larger side with an affinity for sweet treats. Lastly, was Mr Finn Hudson, lanky, tall and slow in movement, with a happy, if not slightly gassy, look ever present on his face.

Kurt hoped that he could get along with them. So did Blaine.

* * *

A month later found Kurt sitting in the dining room, placed at the head of the table, sipping at his elegant china cup with Blaine stood against the wall behind him, should he need anything. The four ornamental corn mice were placed at either end of the rooms' mantelpiece. The month had proven to be an interesting one, he was slowly learning more about his new friends, yet he was still feeling slightly cut off from them. He sighed deeply, taking another small sip out of his small china cup.

Eight birds were singing, chirping

Down the hall, a shadow lurked, skulking its way down towards the room of Miss Berry. Without knocking, the shadowed figure opened the door and quietly stepped in. Rachel was standing in front of her mirror, singing at a rather obnoxious level. The figure placed a hand on her shoulder, making Rachel jump. She turned around to scream, but the sound died upon her throat when she saw who was behind her.

"Oh, it's just you. You know you could have knocked! Imagine what could have happened if you had made me scream? My vocals could have been ruined, and then I would never sing again, my fabulous voice, never to be heard of again by my future adoring public. My dream of becoming a star would be ruined, my destiny, thwarted by your carelessness! Why, I woul-"

The figure stopped Rachel's rant by placing its hand around her throat and pushing her into the mirror. The surface of the mirror cracked at the strength of the push. Rachel struggled against the hold, trying to call for help, but the force that the hand had upon her neck cut of any sound other than the odd squeak. The figure swiftly pulled blades from its pockets, raising one up to Rachel's neck, dragging it harshly across the skin. Rachel's faced twisted into a look of pain and absolute terror. The figure held her up while she continued to twitch, gasp and bleed. Once all movement and flow had ceased, did the figure let the girl drop onto the floor with a thud of dead weight.

Seven birds were singing, chirping.

The figure found its way to another one of the bedrooms. Inside this particular room was Mister Hudson, sound asleep in his chair. The figure crept up behind the chair, so it wouldn't wake the slumbering man. Speedily, it placed a firm hand on the man's mouth, the other, pinching his nose to cut off all air supply. Finn woke with a start, the lack of oxygen causing him to struggle for breath. But he could not get any and soon went limp, ungracefully dropped by the figure. To make sure that the damage was permanent, the figure picked up young Mr Hudson's sport racket and smacked into the side of his head with a _thwack_.

Six birds were singing, chirping.

Miss Lauren Zizes was down in the kitchen, finding something to fill her hunger for sweet treats. Once she had a good armful of snacks, she turned to leave, only to see the figure lounging on the counter.

"Oh, hey. Do you want one?" She asked, holding out a small cake. "No wait, I want these. I don't think there are any left in the cupboard. You'll need to go into town if you want to get more."

The figure drew a kitchen knife that it had concealed behind its back and swooped down on to the large girl, pinning her to the floor. The collision of the girls head and the floor left her confused, unable to move with the combination of the figures weight and the sluggishness she felt from the fall. The figure held the knife above the girls' stomach, swiftly cutting downwards until a gaping hole remained. To silence the screams of the girl, the figure stuffed her mouth with the abandoned food that had been dropped. The figure let the girl bleed, slowly drawing out the girls intestines, a timely practice, but none the less more fitting in the figures mind.

Five birds were singing, chirping.

Quinn Fabray sat in her room, counting her pennies that were spread out on her luxurious bed sheets which she had bought to replace the ones supplied by the house. Nothing was too good for her. Yet, nothing was good enough for her. She had found it hard to settle into the house, but once she had moved a few of her many objects in with her, she felt a little better. She was startled when a figure sat on her coins, carelessly scattering her neat piles, ordered by colour and size. She quickly regained her posture and plastered one of her famous fake smiles onto her pretty face.

"Would you be so kind as to remove yourself from my property?" Her tone was sickly sweet, oh so false, and laced with malice.

The figure stood smoothly, pulling out yet another blade and pointing it at the blond. The false smile was quickly whipped off her face.

"What are you doing with that?" she asked unsteadily. The shadow advanced slowly, Quinn backing away as fast as she could until her back was pressed against her shelf. The figure still advanced, grabbing a fist full of once neatly arranged golden locks. The tip of the knife was placed lightly onto her stomach. "P-please, you don't have to do this." Panicked breaths and scared eyes were a rare sight to see on Miss Fabray's face, but they were all too present now. Her panicked eyes darted around, landing on the shelves she was leaning against. She grabbed a random item and held it out to her attacker. "Here, t-take this vase, take it, j-just p-please d-don't hurt me" she begged.

The figure just batted the item out of her hand, letting it smash on the floor. "Fine, uh. Diamonds! I will give you diamonds. I-I have lots of d-diamonds, I could-could give you one. Just p-p-please don't hurt m-me"

The figure removed the knife from her stomach, and Quinn heaved an audible sigh of relief. That sigh transformed into a gasp of pain as the searing sensation emitted from her wrist. The hand that previously held her curls was now covered her mouth in a vice like grip, muffling screams of agony. The knife attacked the woman's wrist, severing the hand from the arm. Quinn's face was streaked with tears, her once prim make-up now running down her face. The hand flopped down at its owners feet, coated in red, the parts that weren't, deathly pale. The other hand quickly followed.

Quinn had gone silent, shock and pain quickly overpowering her system, leaving the once strong willed young woman, literally lifeless.

Four birds were singing, chirping.

Santana Lopez walked briskly down the hall, hands clasped firmly behind her back. She soon spotted a shadowed figure leaning against her door. A small smirk appeared on her round lips.

"Well, well, Mr Puckerman. I can't imagine what you could be here for" she sarcastically blurted.

Noah Puckerman held the same devious smirk on his face, not to mistaken for his famous 'smoulder'. "I thought you might be up for a round two of what went down last night." He went on in without Santana's permission and set himself down on her bed. She slunk in behind him, heading over towards her draws, hand still clasped behind her back.

"Whoa, Miss Lopez, are you okay? You seem to have cut your hands" asked Noah, slightly concerned.

"Really, what makes you think that?" She asked opening the left draw.

"They seem to have been bleeding quite profoundly. They're practically red."

Santana looked down into the contents of the draw. "So they are. Should I bandage them?"

"Nah, later. I want a round two first, as well as a round three." He was still smirking, former concern replaced by burning lust. Santana took what she needed from the draw and concealed it within her sleeve. She sauntered over to Noah and crawled her way on top of him and pushed him so they were lying down on the bed. He quickly locked his lips to hers, his hands clasped onto her hips.

Santana wasn't very focused on the kiss. She had to finish him off fast. She knew that he could easily overpower her when she attacks him, so the faster, the better. She looks at Noah's eyes, which, luckily for her, were closed with pleasure and lust. She drew her knife out of her sleeve and detached her lips from his. She hovered the knife above his slightly parted lips and forcefully pushed down. His eyes flew open and he made a gargled choking noise. Santana sat down on his chest and pulled the knife out of his throat. Blood filled his throat, he tried to sit up and spit it out, but couldn't, the dizziness of blood loss paired with Santana's weight on his chest kept him down. Blood continued to flow until he drowned.

Three birds were singing, chirping.

* * *

Kurt sat in the dining room, still sipping tea. He set his china cup down on its saucer and turned to Blaine.

"I don't think the others will be joining us for lunch" he sighed. It had been quiet all day. He hadn't seen or spoken to anyone but Blaine, who had finished most of his duties early and had stayed with Kurt the majority of the day, should he need anything. They both knew by now that the real reason was so he could spend more time with Kurt. Kurt had no problem with it. "Could you bring out the starter please?"

"Right away Master Hummel" Blaine got up to leave the room, but before he could take a step, the doors opened wide, and in strode Miss Lopez, tray held in her gloved hands, laden with two bowels of soup.

"Sorry I'm late Hummel," pronounced Santana, informal as ever, "but I did bring your starter. I made it myself, so I hope you like it. Oh, and the other cannot make it to lunch today. They are…. Away for the day." Handed the tray to Blaine and sat herself down at the table.

Blaine took the two bowls and set them down in front of Kurt and Santana, and then stood to the side of the room. Kurt and Santana started eating their meal, the soft clicking of soup spoons attempting to fill the silence.

"I didn't know the others were going out today. Why wasn't I informed?" Kurt felt a little hurt that they wouldn't let him know, he also was envious of how they could so easily go out and socialise.

Santana took off her gloves, setting them down and picking up her cutlery with her blood coated fingers. "Do you like the soup?" she asked, innocently enough.

"Yes, it has an odd taste though. What is it?"

"Poison." She continued to eat her soup.

Both Kurt and Blaine choked; Kurt on soup, Blaine on surprise. "W-what?" asked Kurt, mainly in disbelief.

"Poison. Do you like it?"

"No! What are you, insane?" Kurt shoved the bowel as far away from himself as possible.

"A little. I'm finding that the poison is giving it a nice nutty flavour. You know Lady, I'm not the only one who tried to kill you."

Kurt was still in disbelief. He was going to die. He let a person- **two **persons into his home who were trying to kill him. One who apparently _is _killing him. "Wh-who else?" he asked weakly. He was still coming to terms with the fact that he was dying. So was Blaine, who was painstakingly trying to think of a way to save his Kurt.

"Miss Rachel Berry. Those mice things that she gave you we laced with poison. In fact, she wrote the lovely soup that you are eating comes from the recipe that belongs to Miss Berry. Did you know that those mice were real? I didn't. Singing wasn't her only talent. But don't worry Porcelain, she can't kill you now."

"I know, you already are" Kurt didn't know why he was acting so calm about this. Maybe he had already come to terms with his impending death. He just wanted to know why she would do it.

"Yes, that too. I meant that she is already dead" at that point she lifted up her bloodied hands. "She had too much pride for her talents. It made me sick. So I sorted her out in a way that she couldn't sing anymore. Or live. Pride is an awful sin, you know. You'd be surprised about how many sinners you have in your home. But don't worry I've sorted them out." Santana had stopped eating the soup now, choosing to pick dried blood from under her nails.

"Like who?" Kurt was sickened by the woman in front of him. Why would she do this? Blaine had tears in his eyes. He had never felt more useless in his life. It would take too long to run and get the police. She would probably take him down before he even got to the door. Then no one could get help.

"Like everyone. Except for you Hobbit. You just want to please everyone. That's why I'm not going to kill you." That didn't reassure Blaine. Life without Kurt wasn't worth living. "Like, Mr Hudson for example. So, so lazy. The sin of sloth. And Miss Zizes ate so much. So much. Gluttony. And Miss Fabray was so greedy and kept trying to bribe me with petty objects. I had to cut off her hands just to get her to stop. And Mr Puckerman, too lustful. It was the only thing that he could think about. I had to castrate him after I killed him. And then there's you."

"M-me?" He was slightly worried now.

"Yes, you. You want what everyone else has. You envy people so much that it has become part of your daily routine. Which is why I had to poison you with Miss Berry's mice." At this, she picked up her soup bowel and took a deep sip. Once she lowered the bowel and swallowed, she opened her moth and pick out one, little mouse. She set it down on the table and let it scurry away. Kurt stared in horror.

"T-they're still alive?" he was feeling dizzy and drowsy now. Three corm mice scuttled out of his soup. "Why did you take the soup? What did you do?"

"I hate everyone, so much. I had to kill them. The sin of wrath. You see, I had to kill those sinners. There was this girl I liked, Miss Pierce. She was so innocent; I had to make this world clean for her. But now she's gone. And I can't stay in this world without her." Blaine could understand that. He wasn't ready to pretend to embrace a life after Kurt died. "Getting rid of seven different sinners seemed to be a fitting tribute to old days before I joined her in the next life. I just got lucky here. I only came here to live while I looked for sinners, but I found them all under one roof." Santana started shuddering, as did Kurt, the poison taking the last legs of its effect. Blaine knew all that he could do was hold Kurt while he died. He rushed over to Kurt and took him in his arms, the taller boy gasping, eyes rolling to the back of his head. Santana had slumped in her seat, finally dead, on her way to find her love.

Two birds were singing, chirping.

Tears fell from Kurt and Blaine's eyes, the shorter holding the taller. It didn't take long for him to stop breathing.

One bird was singing, chirping.

Blaine stood up and looked at Kurt's bowl of soup. He then picked it up and downed the rest of the contents and sat on the floor beside Kurt's chair, waiting for the poison to take effect. It didn't take long for him to join Kurt in death.

No birds were singing, chirping.

* * *

The workers at 'Hummel Carriage Repair' hadn't heard from Master Hummel for a long time, so they decided to call the authorities. When they got there they searched the entire house. The found blood stains all over the house. There was one room that held no blood, just eight cages, each with a little, dead, yellow bird lying at the bottom of the cage. In other rooms they found body parts, such as two hands, neatly laid upon luxurious blood covered sheets, each with a hefty sum of money in their palm. There were no bodies in those rooms.

When they stumbled upon the dining room, they were shocked. Eight bodies were found in that room. Kurt Hummel sat at the head of the table, which was set out for dinner, plates with cold food in front of each body. Rachel Berry sat to the right of him, a hole left gaping in her neck, head bent over to the side next to Finn Hudson like they were engaged in conversation, the side of his head caved in. Next to Finn Hudson was Quinn Fabray, hands missing and with her face marked with her dried running make-up. To the left of Kurt sat Lauren Zizes, plate empty, mouth stuffed with un-chewed food, intestine rolled neatly on the floor by her feet. Next to Lauren Zizes was Noah Puckerman, dried blood plastered down his chin like dribble. Next to Noah Puckerman was Santana Lopez, draped in her chair with a satisfied smirk on her face. When they found the body of Blaine Anderson, they weren't sure if her were dead at first. He was propped up at the side against the walls, like he was when he was alive, a little way off behind Kurt, should he need anything.

**A/N; Yeah, that was one fudged up dream. Sorry for how poorly written that was. I started writing at two in the morning and its five now (in the morning). Anyway. I'd like some feedback, happy messages make me happy…. Not that this is a happy story. I just needed to get the freaky out of my system and this seemed like fun :) Anyway, Rate, Review, Whatever You Do On Fanfiction. NO FLAMERS. Sorry if I spelt stuff wrong. Like I said… It's late… or early… **

**MARCH OUT PEEPS!**


End file.
